Maybe Just Tired Enough
by Tiredwasyesterday07
Summary: Mac's tired of many things. Will she attempt to change things or back out again? (I'm going to set it "T" right now. After reading the parameters, I believe that's correct. If not, please let me know. Thanks!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Please don't sue.

 **Author's Note:** I'm new to writing fan fiction. As I've enjoyed reading those that are on this site, I've managed to possibly catch the bug. This has been rattling in my head for a while so I thought I'd give it a try. Most likely, it'll be a two part story but who knows. Please let me know what you think. Please also be kind. All mistakes are mine.

 **Things to know:** This is set shortly after the "Four Percent Solution" episode and Mattie never went back to live with Tom. Italics, if they show properly, denote internal thoughts. I think that's it.

* * *

The red corvette makes the familiar turn and parks beside a black SUV. Quickly exiting the vehicle lest it hold her captive, again, Mac turns to stare at the all too familiar building. A breath is released into the frigid air as she once again ponders the intelligence of making this move, but instead of slipping back into the car, as she had in days past, she squares her shoulders, shuts the car door and enters the building. Again. Stepping off the elevator, she walks the necessary steps to his door and brings her knuckles up to knock. However, her hand fails to make contact with the door and her head bows in defeat. Retreating without turning or looking up, her back connects with the cold, concrete block wall and her purse falls to the floor. ' _I made it off the elevator today.'_ She thinks releasing an audible sigh. ' _I'm pathetic. I'm a marine and I can't even knock on a door I've knocked on hundreds of times. It's simple. I knock. He opens the door. Well, someone opens the door.'_ She bites her inner cheek. _'I would hope after Christmas he...'_ Her inner dialogue is momentarily interrupted as the faint sounds of guitar chords fill the space around her. A half smile forms on her face as she listens before rubbing a hand over her eyes and leaning her head against the wall.

 _'I'm tired. So very tired. I'm tired of the snow. I'm tired of screwing up. Of choosing a career. Of waking up alone. Of granola bars for breakfast.'_ She sighs. _'It's as simple as that. Or as complicated as that. Am I the one that makes complicated things simple? Hell, I don't even remember any more.'_ A shiver runs down her spine _. 'And cold. Tired and cold. If I take the necessary three steps and knock on his door only to mutter I'm tired and cold, he'll offer me coffee. I don't want coffee. I want... Wonder if he'd make me hot chocolate. Didn't I have a whole opening statement outlined for this? ... I made an outline of what to say when his door opens? I'm not sure if I should be more concerned that I made an opening statement or that I'm irritated I left the damn thing on my coffee table...'_ She turns her head to the side and narrows her eyes in thought."At this point, coffee table." She releases a frustrated sigh. ' _Damn it, why am I still standing here? I should be inside... on the couch... drinking something warm by now. Telling him what I'm tired of. Or just walking into his bedroom, crawling into his bed, and falling asleep. Wonder how he'd take that. Well... I could find out if the coward in me would knock.'_

She shifts her weight back and forth and then tries to press herself into the concrete block wall that's been holding her up for 27 minutes and 32 seconds. Looking down to focus on her fingers as they play with the hem of her jacket, she hears a door open. ' _Ummm.'_ Frantically, her eyes snap to a height of six-foot-four as her back propels her body off the wall and fingers simultaneously release the jacket's hem. "Sorry to..." She utters to no one. Her eyes narrow in momentary confusion. Quickly, it's replaced with a mixture of relief and regret as she falls back against the wall and gives it a kick. ' _This would be so much easier if he'd just open the door. C'mon, Harm. I know you know I'm here. Open the door. Don't leave the decision entirely up to me.'_

 _(Jen/Mattie's Apartment)_

"Seriously?" Mattie grumbles as she shuts the door.

"Seriously, what?" Jen asks as she rounds the corner of their apartment.

"Mac. Mac is still in the hallway. Still staring at Harm's door. Yesterday, she was in the elevator. The day before that - the parking lot. I mean really?" As the 'really' comes out in the most teenager-ish drawl, she reaches for her cell phone. Before Jen can object again, she hears faint ringing.

"Hello?"

"What the heck, Harm? Let her in already!" Her demand is met with a barely audible sigh.

(Harm's Apartment)

Moving the phone to rest in-between his cheek and shoulder as he continues to strum his guitar, his gaze shifts from the sheet music in front of him to his door. "We've been through this, Mattie," he quietly states.

"It's not hard. Open the door."

"She hasn't knocked yet."

"You know she's in the hallway."

"Yes, I do."

"Then OPEN THE DOOR. Invite her in. Give her some coffee. It's cold outside."

"Mattie," he shifts the phone to his hand pressing his elbow into the curve of his guitar as he reaches for his cup of tea, "we've been having the same conversation for the past two days." He takes a sip of tea and then repositions his phone and guitar after returning the cup to the table. "Mac knows I'm home. More to the point, she's aware that I know she's here and she also knows that unless she knocks I will pretend as though she never was. There's something on her mind. I'm not quite sure what it is, but by her actions, she's fighting with herself about even addressing the issue. That rarely ends well."

"If you open the door and force her to address..." Mattie's statement abruptly stops as he starts to snicker.

"If I force her to address it, it'll either turn into another unnecessary argument or you'll be planning my funeral. Forcing Mac to do anything never... and I do mean never... leads to anything good. I have almost nine years of experience to offer as proof. I'm," he takes a deep breath and returns to strumming his guitar," tired, Mattie. I'm done forcing her to address things only to spend months with her angry. If she wishes to address what's on her mind, she'll knock on the door. If she knocks on the door, I promise I'll open it. But she has to knock. She has to decide she... She just has to decide. Now, quit focusing on the Marine haunting the building and finish studying for your history exam."

"But, Harm. You need to..."

"Good night, Mattie." He takes the phone from his shoulder and closes it before placing it on his coffee table. For a few seconds, he merely stares at the door before raising an eyebrow and sighs. _'I really should open the door. Maybe just unlock it and open it a sliver of the way.'_ He shakes his head. _'Or maybe just put a cup of coffee and a chocolate bar in the hallway tomorrow if she doesn't... Oh hell. C'mon Marine. Knock on the damn door already.'_ Rubbing a hand across his furrowed brow, he shakes his head once more before begrudgingly returning to his sheet music.

(Hallway)

 _'Was that the phone? Surely not...he's still playing.'_ Eyes still focused on the door, she takes a step forward only to pause and turn toward the elevator only to pause again and return to her spot against the wall. _'This needs to end. The only thing addressing this conversation will get me is a migraine and a desire to transfer to Europe. I should leave. I need to leave. I feel like I'm haunting his building... Haunting him. You know what. I'm done.'_ Pushing off the wall, she neglects to see her purse lying in front of her right foot. She stumbles and tries to regain her balance to no avail. Ungracefully, her arm and head slam into his door - the door she had finally decided to leave undisturbed. "Damn!" falls from her lips as her consciousness is already in the middle of a silent, fate cursing tirade.

(Harm's Apartment)

Harm's head shoots up and he's already halfway to the door, the guitar discarded, before he hears her "Damn!" His hesitation as to what awaits him on the other side of door fails to give him pause and he flings open the door only to send Mac crashing onto his floor with a string of mutterings he is unable to discern. Taking a quick peek into the hallway looking for something or someone to explain the Marine heap on his floor, he finds nothing and swiftly kneels beside the woman lying on her side. Afraid to jostle her without knowing if or where she's injured and berating himself for not catching her, he gently lays a hand on her bicep and waits with a puzzled expression for her to open her clenched eyes and return his gaze.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no infringement is intended. Please don't sue.

Author's note: Sorry, it's take a while to get this up. A toddler treating sleep as if it's the devil doesn't make life easy. I appreciate all the reviews! Thank you all so much! I hope this is to your liking as well. As always, let me know. Hopefully, the next part won't take as long to get up. I'll do my best!

... Afraid to jostle her without knowing if or where she's injured and berating himself for not catching her, he gently lays a hand on her bicep and waits with a puzzled expression for her to open her clenched eyes and return his gaze.

(Part 2)

Barely breathing and willing her muscles to refrain from making any detectable movements, Mac lays on the floor trying to discern just how she's going to waltz her way out of this one. _'Who am I kidding? I'm lying inside his threshold. He's already checked the hallway to make sure there wasn't an intruder. Now he's kneeling beside me wondering... wondering God knows what. Probably whether I'm injured and then in which mental institution he's going to place me. What am I supposed to say? Hey - your door passed the new, yearly safety check. Think I can get one of these for my apartment?'_ She releases a silent, inward sigh. ' _His thumb's caressing my arm. And as nice as that feels… Time to suck it up, Marine.'_

Slowly, she unclenches her eyes to meet his steel blue gaze. Taking in his worried yet slightly bemused expression, she offers a slight smile and moves to bring herself to a sitting position beside him remaining silent.

"Mac?" Comes his hesitant, questioning voice. She raises an eyebrow, losing the smile. "You...umm… You okay?"

"What?" she gives him a pointed look and decides _'what the hell'_ , "you didn't get the memo regarding the new, annual Marine residential burglary door safety check?" He instantly flashes the smile she has loved for nearly a decade before raising an eyebrow.

"You mean the one that comes with a side of delirious, concussive Marine with possible bodily injury?" She grimaces and rubs her neck with one hand and points at him with the other.

"That'd be the one." He motions at the door with a sideways nod.

"It pass?"

"With flying colors. I might need one. You do install?" He scoffs lightly before furrowing his brow and opening his mouth in question. "My purse," she answers.

"Your purse?" He looks at her quizzically before turning his head to look toward her feet where he finds her purse strap wrapped around her right foot. He returns his gaze to hers after untangling and retrieving the offensive object. "I'd ask" he begins but stops as her eyes drop his and focus on an object to his left. ' _Okay,'_ he thinks. ' _Wonder just how quickly she's going to run?'_ "Coming or going?" She returns her gaze to his wearing a slightly surprised expression.

"Depends." 'Go _ing! I'm GOING!'_ screams her subconscious but her mouth ignores its panic. "Got plans?" _'Say yes. Say you have plans,' is the mantra running through her head._ Watching the flurry of emotions flutter across her face, he knows only part of her wants to stay. The other desperately wants him to tell her he's busy. _'Plans? You body slammed my door, Mac.'_ Instead of uttering such a phrase, he offers a small smile.

"You hurt?"

"A little - neck and head." She attempts to stretch and grimaces. "Back. Suffice it to say tomorrow won't be pleasant."

"Probably not. Can you get up?" She tilts her chin up a slight angle and squints her eyes giving him a measured look. He braces himself for the challenge about to come at him.

"What happens if I say no?" _'Oh really?'_ He thinks. He raises his eyebrows before sighing and looking downcast.

"Well, I'm old Mac. Punched out one too many times. But I think. Just maybe." He smirks, "Unless Webb was right all those years ago when he said 140, that I can still get you off the floor." Before she has time to process the jab, he picks her off the floor and deposits her on the couch, jacket, purse, and all. She scowls at him.

"I have you know," she points at him as he quickly retreats to a safe distance with his hands raised.

"Hey, I never said he was right. I was really thinking more like 115." He grins and catches the pillow lobbed in his direction and tosses it back. "Make yourself as comfortable as you can. You're cold. Want something warm to drink?"

"Yeah." He waits. Nothing else comes from the person currently trying to sink into his couch. Aware his physical proximity hasn't changed, she turns her head without raising it from the couch. "Hmm?"

"What would you like to drink?"

"Don't care as long as it's warm." _'Anything but coffee, please._ _'_ As she puts her now shoeless feet up on the coffee table, he crosses his arms with a raised eyebrow. After briefly looking at the clock, he looks at her again before releasing a sigh and walking into the kitchen shaking his head.

(Apartment's kitchen)

Harm ambles up to the counter and flips on the coffee pot before grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. Pausing, he looks back toward Mac. _'No stimulants for you. I don't need you amped up enough to attempt to "recheck" the door. I really don't feel like remodeling this place again. So that leaves...'_ He opens the refrigerator and pulls out the milk. Walking back to the stove after grabbing a sauce pan, he sets the milk on the counter and grabs cocoa, sugar and salt and puts the necessary amounts of each in the saucepan. Adding water, he turns on the stove burner to medium and whisks the mixture attempting to keep it from burning. "Remote's to your left," he calls over his shoulder, "feel free to turn it on if you like. Not sure what's on." She doesn't respond but he fully expects to hear the click of the television. Hearing nothing after a few beats, he looks toward the couch ' _No movement? She alive over there?'_

"Mac?" He pauses and again receives no response, "Maaaaaac?"

 _"_ Hmm?"

"Did you want to watch something?"

"No. Rather just talk." He spills some milk on the stove as he attempts to add it to the boiling mixture and quickly cleans it up. ' _She wants to...talk? We have no cases presently together. Haven't had lunch or dinner in at least two weeks... Equally at fault but...'_

"I guess we really haven't had much time to catch up lately," he offers as he whisks the mixture in an attempt to warm but not scorch it. "Something specific on your mind, counselor?" Glancing back, he looks in her direction as his question goes unanswered. _'Pretty sure she's managed to sink more into the couch. Not sure how that's possible.'_ Returning his attention back to the saucepan, he remains silent. _'I honestly have no idea what's on her mind. Not that she's exactly launching clues my way. There are days when I'd kill to be on a flight deck. Less confusing. Wonder if they'd take me back temporarily?'_

Reaching both the correct temperature and consistency, he pulls the saucepan off the burner and pours some of the contents into a coffee cup. After returning the ingredients to their desired locations, he pours his coffee stirring in the cream and sugar. Picking up both cups, he turns to head back to the couch before noticing her jacket is still on. _'She's cold and this will only help to an extent. That… That I can fix.'_ Returning the cups to the counter, he makes his way to his bedroom.

(Living room/area - backtracking a few minutes. )

"Did you want to watch something?" He asks. _'Watch something? You mean other than my life imploding? Something simple? Actually, make that one long ass, complicated movie that demands so much of our attention that we actually forget out this night started by the end of it. Got one of those? No. Fine. How about we talk about you helping me pack? Why did you have to request that I come to you? And why in the hell did I listen?'_ She sighs.

"No. Rather just talk." _'Great... Just great. Now he's going to expect coherent conversation. I have news for you, squid... What's he saying? I didn't catch. Oh... ha!. Is there something specific on my mind? Really? You think? No, I just go around body slamming doors... How about - Let's try an "Us" because we know how easy and wonderful that will be. What'cha say partner? This... This is why you SHOULD HAVE NEVER TOLD ME TO COME TO YOU WHEN I WAS READY. What kind of statement is that anyway? Every time I'm ready, you… I'm not sure what you are but we are never in the same place at the same time. I can't completely blame you.'_ "But I shouldn't expect this time to be different."

"Expect what to be different?" _'Shiiiit.'_ She turns her head and finds him standing beside her.

"Nothing." Absently, she reaches for a coffee cup and finds her hand in his.

"Up." He pulls her gently. She complies.

"What? I..." he offers up a zip front hoodie.

"Trade me. This will be warmer than your jacket." She slides out of her jacket and into his hoodie, zipping it as he returns from hanging up her jacket. "I used to have a pull over that matches that. But," he gives her a pointed look, "I think I lost it a few years ago." She smiles looking just passed his left shoulder.

"You really should be more careful with your things. You've claimed to have lost quite a few articles of clothing over the years." She risks a glance at him and finds his eyes narrowed but a smile playing on his face."

"Uh huh..." He hands her a fleece blanket before walking back toward his counter for the cups. "Sit... If by "lost", you mean the items grew legs and magically found their way into your wardrobe, then I concur." He hands her the cup of hot chocolate before sitting down in the chair adjacent to the couch. She scoots around until she's comfortable and sips her hot chocolate.

"You may be a mind reader. Hot chocolate was what I wanted but it's a pain to make." She watches him beginning to take a sip of his coffee, "and... In my defense, your clothes are comfortable and they smell like you which is nice and comforting." He chokes on his coffee which earns him a punchy smile. After his coughing fit subsides, his eyebrows near his hairline and he looks at her. "You gonna live?"

"Yet to be determined. I think I should lay off the coffee, though. Comfortable, comforting and smell good, huh? I just lost that hoodie, too, didn't I?" Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, she gives him a scrutinizing look. _'Ha. Ha... Europe here I come.'_ She clears her throat.

"Guess that depends."

"On?" She takes a slow sip of her hot chocolate.

"Is it considered lost if it's in my wardrobe but in our closet? Because arguably you can still access it. And you know where it is." She tilts her head and looks at him from the corner of her eye. The looks she finds on his face is one of befuddled confusion. She leans over and removes the coffee cup from his hands setting it on the coffee table. "I think it's safer if this is down here. I really don't want to have to call the paramedics."

"Paramedics?" He blinks his eyes at her, "Your clothes. Our closet? I don't have anything Marine green..." He continues to spew a confused ramble and she grins and returns to her hot chocolate content to let him deal with his confusion. _'_ "Whoa." He stops. "Not lost because I'd have access to it in our closet. Mac?" She looks at him and chuckles.

"Caught you off guard with that one, huh?" His fingers drum on the chair arms accentuating his words.

"Not... not the intro into that particular conversation that I was expecting. Body slamming doors... Clothes discussions. Interesting."

"Best I could do on the fly," she shrugs. "I left my prepared intro and outline on my coffee table." His eyes widen and she laughs again and clears her throat. "You... uh. You told me to come to you when I was ready." She drops his gaze and focuses on her fingers that are playing with her cup. "That you wanted to be a part of my life." She set her cup on the coffee table and turns toward him pulling up her knees and placing her arms around and her chin on them. "Wanna rethink that?" His "No" mixes into her "that". Her body relaxes a tenth of a percent as she releases a "Good." Minutes pass as they sit in silence both fidgeting with anything they can. Her hand plays with the blanket hem. "I've been back in therapy for a while now...trying to sort out life." He nods.

"You'd mentioned that a while back." He's silent for a few beats, "It's helping, I take it?"

"She can be infuriating at times... but she does more good than bad at the end of the day." He nods. "You're a..." she pauses and waits for him to meet her gaze before continuing, "a rather common topic." He leans back in his chair and offers her a shy smile.

"That a good thing?" She moves her hand back and forth.

"Mostly." He offers her an accepting nod. "You and I. We have a lot of history, I believe is how she put it." Again, he nods.

"Our luck and propensity for getting in the middle of things we should really just leave alone will give you that." She raises an eyebrow and nods.

"That and our backgrounds. Part of me thinks she's going to end up writing a book. Pretty sure she has more than enough information." He chuckles and silence resumes. Looking down and picking back up the blanket hem, she glances up at him a few times. "She... she asked me if you were the one I always intended to be with… If I ever thought you'd abandon me." Allowing her voice to trail off, she pauses for a few beats only to realize that his side of the room had gone so quiet she wasn't sure he was still breathing. Raising her eyes, she's met with a wide eyed, apprehensive and concerned gaze.

"What..." he clears his throat, "what did you say?" Holding his gaze, she shifts a little in her seated position.

"Can I ask you a question?"


End file.
